I swirl my tongue around the tip and feel his hips jerk, his body recoiling. Dipping down on the bulbous tip, I suck him hard, cleaning the tip with my tongue. I guess he can’t take much more; he flashes me away, gasping and rubbing his cock head.
Ben turns me to face him and he kisses me softly, too soft. He seems to be savoring me and that makes me…feel.
My chest lifts then falls as I sigh contentedly. Right here. Right now. I am at peace. Happy.
“I should tell you about last night,” Ben says softly when we both come down from our high. We are now in bed, wrapped around each other.
“No, don’t. It’s ok,” I protest, not wanting to drudge up memories of last night. “You don’t have to explain anything. You don’t need to.”
“Shut…up, Sullivan,” he exhales. “I want to explain.”
I nod in surrender and steel myself for what I am about to hear. I don’t want to explore my jealousy over him and that is exactly what his telling me about last night will do.
“Last night, when I came over, I had to change a flight I had just to be with you.”
I gape at him. Why would he do that? I hadn’t wanted him to shift everything around in his life for me when I’d decided that I wanted to do this.
“I did that because you wanted to see me,” he answers my unasked question. “Besides, I couldn’t leave things the way they were yesterday. More than that, I wanted to be with you.”
I swallow hard, surprise still etched on my face. I can’t get a word in edgewise. He wanted to see me. How should I react to that?
“After I apologized to the staff,” he pauses at my sudden and soft hiss of breath. “Yes, I listened to you.”
I flush at the sentiment and a warm, fuzzy feeling flows through me.
“My secretary reminded me that I had a flight that night. I go to this thing every year and this was the first time I’d forgotten, and it was also the first time I’d ever not wanted to go. So, I switched some stuff up and decided I’d either take a later flight, or leave the next morning,” he explains. I’m trying very hard not to blush. Thank God for the black in me, or else I’d be puce right now.
“When I got that call last night,” he continues. “It was to tell me that I had to be at the airport in an hour for my rescheduled flight. At that point, I didn’t want to go. Sullivan, I couldn’t go.”
My mouth falls open again, nothing coming out. Quickly recovering, I square my shoulders and ask, “Who was it that called Ben? Why’d you have to whisper?”
“It was a woman who called me,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “An ex. She and I…we have sex occasionally, especially when I have trips out of town,” Ben reveals.
I try, but I can’t help scowling. Who is this bitch? No, I can’t let him think I’m jealous. But, I am! No. I have to shake that shit off.
“When was the last time?” I inquire. Do I really want to know?
“The day after you and I met,” he answers. Somehow it is a relief to hear; a little hypocritical since I had slept with someone the very night Ben and I slept together.
“When I started whispering,” Ben continues, “she was asking about the hotel; if we should have separate rooms or stay in the same suite this time. I was telling her that we had to talk. That’s when you threw my shirt at me.” Ben exhales in a rush.
I rest my hand on his. I have to say my piece. “Ben, I don’t want you to give up what you’re used to for me. I’m not worth it.” The words sound wrong to my own ears, but I have to surge ahead.
Before I can say anything further, Ben interjects, “I beg to differ, Sullivan.”
I hold my hand up to silence him. “Let me continue. I might not think I’m worth it, but I appreciate you doing it,” I say, trying to mask a smile.
It feels good to know that he did that for me, but things like that makes it hard for me to stick by a decision to remain friends with benefits. Ben making me feel this way makes me want things, unrealistic things, like wanting to be his girlfriend, though I know I’d only end up hurting him.
“I know men like you love their order and their routine,” I continue, “and for you to disrupt all that for me…I’m flattered actually.”
“I just wish you could see how worth it you really are,” Ben says, running his hand down my cheek.
“Character flaw,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders at my obvious lack of esteem.
“I have a hard time believing you have any.”
“Trust me, I’ve got plenty,” I mutter.
“Come with me and tell me all about them,” he requests.
“What?” I snort.
“My business trip. Come with me. It’s a three day conference. You could stay in the suite or do whatever you want during the day, and then when I get back, we could work on dispelling those pesky character flaws of yours,” he suggests, cupping my chin and running a finger along my bottom lip.
My eyes light up and I can’t help but grin. How can I turn down an offer like that? I’m not enthusiastic about talking about myself, but it is the least I can do since he is willing to give up something – or someone, rather – he was used to, for me. I’m not all that special. Why does he want to be with me so much?
I chastise myself inwardly for thinking so lowly of myself; which has always been a problem for me. I could never see what people saw in me. All I could see and dwell on was how fucked up I really was under all my curves, full breasts, eyes, lips, and beautiful face.
“We’d use the company jet and fly to New York.” He stretches for his cell phone, looking at the time. “Almost seven,” he acknowledges.
“New York?” My voice is soft. Oh no. Why did his conference have to be in New York? I can’t go. I have to turn him down. “I can’t, Ben.”
“Nonsense,” he protests. “You’re coming.”
“Ben,” I sigh. What will my excuse be this time? “My classes start next week. I’m an honors candidate and I’ve got to sort everything out for Monday: classes, my independent study, my research paper, my tuition. I can’t lapse on any of that.” Well, it is sorta true.
He sighs frustratingly, gripping the bridge of his nose, but not saying a word.
“If I hadn’t have been so consumed by you the past two days, I would’ve been able to take care of all of that and there would be no problem for me to go with you today.” I am milking this excuse for everything it has, trying for guilt. The only thing that I have to worry about for school is tuition really, but he doesn’t have to know that. All that matters is that I can’t be in New York. Ever.
Ben grunts and I know he’s disappointed. I can’t imagine why though.
“Honors student, huh? You’ve impressed me yet again. How am I going to handle three days without you?” He scoots closer to me so that his forehead presses against mine.
The proximity and unexpected action takes my breath away. He cups the back of my head, squeezing me to him. This is intense Ben and my heart pounds with the manifestation. If he looks deep enough, he’ll know how much he has me. I can’t let him know. I can’t afford to fall for him.
“I’ll deal with it. But when I next see you…be prepared,” he warns; a warning that reawakens my dark desire for him. Already I can’t wait.
The day seems to drag slowly on. Knowing Ben isn’t in Philadelphia is driving me crazy. I miss him.
At one, I can’t stand being at home any longer, so I set off to UPenn.
There is no Ben to look forward to, so I spend two hours talking with professors, discussing my research paper with my supervisor and looking at my options for financial aid.
On my way to the subway station, I bump into a familiar face.
“Delilah?” Brandon says, circling me.
“I can’t look that much different, Brandon.” I hug him and I am propelled back into my past for a moment.
Brandon was Jared’s little brother and is quite familiar with parts of my story. He has inky black hair, just like his brother had, and hazel eyes. Brandon
is wearing a shiny, navy blue, trim fit suit, white shirt and a blue and white striped tie. He is of medium height and build. Always more of a rebel, the Brandon in front of me is much different from the Brandon of four years ago with the tattoos and ripped jeans. Even the last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing distressed jeans, a white tee and motorcycle boots.
“Look at you!” I hold him at arm’s length, perusing his frame. “Where’s the rebel that I know and love?”
“He’s still around, tucked neatly under this Hugo Boss suit,” he replies, patting his chest down. “But look at you. You’re looking beautiful as usual.”
“Thanks, Brandon. Wow, how long has it been?”
“A year…give or take a few months,” he estimates. “God…I can’t believe I’m looking at you right now. Have dinner with me later. Do you have plans?”
“I don’t. I’d love to.”
“My mom was talking about you the other day. She still wears those pearls you got her last year for her birthday. She claims they’re her lucky pearls,” he states, fishing out his cell phone.
“I’ve missed her.”
“Only her?” he asks, his deep voice caressing each word, causing my heart to leap. He sounds so much like Jared; it is hard not to have the same reactions to his voice as I had to Jared’s.
“Yes, I’ve missed you too, Brandon. Hopefully we’ll get to catch up tonight,” I assure him.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Brandon hopes, with a provocative smile. He has one of those smiles that can drive a woman wild. I could stare at it all day.
“Give me your contact information and I’ll give you the details for later,” he instructs, handing me his cell phone. So very authoritative. So very much like his brother.
I add my cell number and email address. After giving him directions to my apartment, Brandon promises to pick me up around 6:30. We part with a warm embrace and quick back glances at each other that cause me to blush profusely. I am really looking forward to it.
At 6:25, I am dressed and eager. Clad in a short, black, one shoulder dress and silver peep-toe heels showing off my pedicure, I await Brandon in the lobby of my apartment building. My hair is in a messy chignon, exposing my neck and back.
I stand chatting with Pete, the other receptionist for our building, and a cold shiver moves through me as I see Brandon stepping out of his black limousine in a fitted black suit and black shirt open at the top. He looks dark, tempting and sexy. Holy crap!
Tonight is going to be a problem, what with my libido revved up. I had spoken to Ben earlier and we flirted, almost to the point of phone sex, before he had to go to some business dinner. I thought by using Jerry before going out, it would take some of the edge off, but seeing Brandon has kicked my hormones into high gear.
“Yum,” Pete comments. He is a blonde hair, lanky, gay fellow involved in a committed relationship with his boyfriend of two years, but is always so flirtatious. “Is that your date? Holy hotness, he’s delish!”
He pats his crotch down then says, “Down, boy. Jeez, he’s a fucking god.”
I slap his arm and turn to face Brandon who makes his way through the turnstiles.
“Have fun. Be bad,” Pete whispers as I walk toward Brandon who enfolds me in his arms.
“Damn, Delilah. Now I know why my brother couldn’t keep his hands off you,” Brandon gushes.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I brush his lapels down. “Ready?”
“Wait. I have a gift for you.” Brandon says, reaching inside his jacket pocket and pulling out a pink rectangular velvet box. “Open it,” he instructs, handing me the beautiful box.
Taking the box, I caress it, taken aback by the gift. I pluck my eyes up to his, and gaze almost seductively at him.
“Jared told me about those eyes and what they do. I believe him now,” he says, caressing my cheek and looking dreamily at me.
“Open it,” Brandon commands silkily; beguiling me as I’m sure the serpent did Eve.
Thumbing the box open, I gasp at seeing a silver necklace, with a clump of diamonds at the end of it, lying in the box.
“Oh my…” I trail off, my voice leaving me. I clear my throat then throw my arms around him. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, Brandon.”
He takes the necklace from the box and fixes it around my neck. Caressing my naked back, I hear a low groan in his chest that provokes my nipples to stand. Oh boy. This will be an interesting night.
Brandon and I went to an upscale restaurant and I was happy that I decided to dress up. We both ordered the chicken piccata with angel hair pasta and green beans, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
We ate and caught up as much as we could. Brandon had me in stitches and also had me blushing. He was being absolutely sweet and it didn’t help that I was in my usual flirtatious element.
“What are you up to now, Miss Keyes?” he asks, circling the rim of his champagne glass, after finishing dinner.
“Well, I’m in my final semester of college,” I answer.
“Are you still going to UPenn?”
“Yeah, I am. This semester’s gonna be a little challenging. I hope I get to finish,” I say, and I am momentarily dragged back into an old pattern: gold digger.
“Tuition troubles?” he guesses, eyebrows raised.
“As usual; but I’ll finish by any means necessary,” I reply, taking a seductive sip of wine and licking my lips in a come-hither way.
Brandon shifts in his seat and he grabs the edge of the table, not taking his eyes off me. He exhales deeply then fishes out his checkbook. Check and mate.
“Oh, no. Brandon, please don’t,” I protest.
“Jared would’ve done it for you, Delilah. I’m simply honoring my late brother by taking care of you. It might be three years too late, but it’s better late than never, right?” Brandon resolves.
He scribbles onto the check. Ripping it out, he hands it to me. “If you need more, just say so. If it’s too much, just take the balance. Buy books, whatever you want.”
I glance at the check in my hands and my breath catches audibly as I stare at the amount.
“$20,000?” I cough. Yes, this is way too much. I look up to see Brandon sipping his wine like that amount is nothing to part with. Yes, the famous, man-with-power mask sliding gently over his face. “Thank you, Brandon.” I place my hand over his.
Twisting his wrist, he catches my hand and makes tiny circles in my palm. My sleeping hormones quickly jump awake, alive with unquenchable yearning. The charge I feel with his touch seems to multiply in him. A crimson flush mars his supple skin and I can feel his heart beat all the way in his fingertips.
Brandon is past hot and bothered. He is damn near exploding. This wanton need for me churns my libido and the quavering at the apex of my thighs sends me shivering with lust. If I don’t get satisfied tonight, I don’t know how I’ll make it through the rest of the night. I’ll have to get a high somehow, and I am not willing to think anywhere along those lines. So if I have to take what I want from Brandon, so be it. I am much too horny to go home unfucked.
“Are you ready?” Brandon breaks through my stormy thoughts with a dark, rousing resonance. He is as hot for me as I am for a good, hard fuck.
“Yes,” I utter barely, as my ragged breathing claims my voice.
Brandon smiles wryly at me – a smile that narrows his eyes in a licentious way, so I know what to expect as soon as we leave the restaurant. Yes, I expected to be thoroughly fucked by my deceased boyfriend’s brother.
I have no time to process the dreadful thing I am about to do. All I know is that it has to be done. I am way too wound up. Unconscious signals had already been passed between us and there is no turning back now.
Brandon and I enter the lobby of the restaurant, about to push through the glass turnstiles. Brandon pauses in the middle of the lobby floor and hauls me to him, sealing my mouth with his. I fall into the kiss, wrapping my arms around him and surging them upward into his thick, satiny
black hair. I break through his lips with my tongue, licking greedily inside his mouth, passion mirroring each flick of my tongue. All of a sudden, I feel like I’m kissing Ben. I want to kiss Ben. I miss kissing Ben.
Brandon pulls back from me and flips out his cell phone, his heavy breathing matching my own.
“Vargas,” Brandon calls his driver’s name over the phone, his intonation clipped and sinful.
My thundering heart thrums through my ears. I am as eager as a wet beaver. My cell phone vibrates in my purse and I quickly fish it out.
I don’t recognize the number when I answer with as much gathered wits as I can, “Sullivan Beal.” But my voice is still husky; an unsatisfied thirst lining my tone. Well, I tried.
“What the fuck are you doing?” The sound of Ben’s heated tone makes me falter.
“Ben…” I gasp.
“Motherfucking answer me, Sullivan,” he clips through gritted teeth. His pulsating anger raises the hairs on my neck even through the phone. I grip my cell phone tighter and lean against the wall to keep my legs from giving way.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben,” I lie. I can’t let him know that I am out on a date and about to be fucked into the next morning by my dead boyfriend’s younger brother. I may not want a relationship with him, but I’m not ready to lose Ben just yet.
“Cut the shit, Sullivan. I know you’re out with Brandon Mayhew in that short, fucking dress. And I saw that fucking kiss. So I’ll ask you again. What…the fuck…are you doing?” He is icy, clipped and fuming. How does he know I am out with Brandon? How did he see the kiss?
“H-h-how?” I stutter in a shaky voice, my body trembling, kept from falling by the wall.
“My company owns that restaurant. And I had Simon follow you. He wants to fuck you, Sullivan. Do you want to fuck him?” he demands.
My mouth goes dry. I swallow painfully as a nervous heat flushes my body. I don’t want to fuck Brandon, but I want to be fucked desperately.
“You want him inside you, don’t you?” Ben’s voice is hoarse with anger and a lustful undertone. This is turning him on.
Tainted Love (Book 1) Page 14